The minute he saw Old King Brady, without waiting to finish the game, he pushed the dominoes aside and made a sign for the old detective to follow, then leading him upstairs.
"I'm living here just now," he said. "I don't know as you know it."
"No; I didn't know," was the reply. "Have you caught on to anything?"
"I think so. Volckman's a sly one, but I have had a good chance to watch him. He quit an hour earlier than usual to-night. So did I, and I trailed him to China alley and saw him go into a crib there."
"Good for you! What kind of a crib?"
"Oh, there is supposed to be about everything that is crooked going on there. Mock Ting's restaurant is on the ground floor of the Dupont street side. There's a fan-tan joint on the third floor. I understand there are underground rooms. I don't actually know any of them to be opium joints, but I have no doubt that some of them are."
"It's enough that you have tracked Volckman there. What do you propose?"
"It's up to you, Mr. Brady. I have no pull in Chinatown. That is what we want."
"It surely is. I used to have a lot, but times have changed. I hardly know who to apply to now. I hate to ring in a wardman."
"I wouldn't," said Leggett, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't believe it would pay. I'm ready to bust ahead with you and take our chances."